


nowhere to go

by sangiebyheart



Series: before tomorrow catches up [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, talks of anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangiebyheart/pseuds/sangiebyheart
Summary: There is Lee Minho, who has struggles of his own to ponder upon in the dead of night, but as far as Jisung is aware, they are not great enough to keep him from a restful slumber.To Jisung, Lee Minho is the epitome of distraction. Of thoughts turning around and running off into another direction entirely, of soft eyes with entire galaxies within that Jisung would love to explore. Smiles so rare yet so special, so unique and only for him.Or, the morning (afternoon) after the confession.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: before tomorrow catches up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899889
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	nowhere to go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forbaltimore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbaltimore/gifts).



> happy birthday, lara. this time, i’m punctual.
> 
> stays, don’t expect anything from me or from this. this is merely a small continuation of caught up in the afterglow, the fic that brought me into kpop fandom. it is kind of a last minute present, too.
> 
> this will make more sense if you read part 1, aka caught up in the afterglow. beware, it’s one year old. 
> 
> i hope it will be enjoyable.

Sleep does not come easy to the anxious.

When the world is finally at rest, the streets have lost their hustle and bustle, and quiet settles over a city that pretends as though it can carry light into the dead of night, it is those times that one Han Jisung has come to welcome as his new home.

It has not been kind to him, this city. This career that he has chosen. This life that he is living.

It is a path with many stones in the way, some as big as boulders, an obstacle so high and wide Jisung must get creative to hurl it out of his way and move on, others as small as a pebble, as unassuming as a flower in a field, yet a life-long companion, always falling into your shoe even after you picked it out.

His anxiety, it feels like this.

Like something that sometimes, he can forget. When distraction is at the top of his agenda, when passion reminds him that he has skill and determination, and they place a soft barrier between him and the unwanted disturbance in his head.

But then it appears, like a stab to his side, a cut from a paper, something small that reminds him that the world can be a scary place - and suddenly, it is all he can think about, even though he has been trying to shut it down before it can grow into an unruly, chaotic force. A threat to consume all of him. Render him sleepless, make him numb.

He is aware that the career he has picked to pursue is a particularly rocky one. Performing self-produced, self-composed, self-written songs with your two best friends, attempting to convince the entire globe that they are worthy of praise and worthy of attention, attempting to prove that everything they work on is a picture-perfect copy of their soul and a relatable, lyrical representation of everybody’s struggles - it is not easy, not ever. It has never been so, not at the mere age of seventeen when the three of them started out, not now, years later, when Jisung is at least confident enough to recognize his talents, knows his boundaries and his limits, and how to navigate his anxiety right before they have another big gig coming up.

The first step, always, is to sit in a circle - or an odd sort of triangle - with Chan and Changbin, to discuss their hopes and dreams from this day forward, their wishes for success, but also their worries, their concerns. Jisung trusts them with his heart and his soul, would go through hell and back for either of them, and he knows they would do the same for him.

They may not be that much older than he is - but they have been pursuing their dream for the longest time, have both sacrificed so much to even be at the point that they are. The scariest part about being in a group with them is, truly, the potential to disappoint them. The potential to never be enough, as much as Jisung wishes to be.

He has not brought that up in so long; his fear of screwing up, screwing them over. Of making mistakes that will bring their group down, down, down so that all of it - all of those long nights in the studio for Chan, the revisions for Changbin’s raps, or Jisung’s emotional torments while coming up with lyrics - has been for nothing.

They value communication above all else. They function together like a well-oiled machine with so many feelings, they have to put them into their music not to combust and cease their working, but Jisung just cannot shake the feeling that he--that this is a burden only he must carry. His friends, his older brothers, already have so much weight on their hearts, some of it even travelling to Chan’s eyelids to make them heavy, as he himself cannot find sleep anymore if this or that has not had its finalizing touch yet.

So, sometimes, Jisung sits, awake, at night, and hopes that whichever deity is deciding over an equal distribution of sleep, has enough pity on Chan and recognizes Jisung’s sacrifices. Just so maybe, Chan can have some sleep - it is a fair exchange, Jisung thinks. Even if it is not always intentional.

There is step two, of course, equally as important.

There is Lee Minho, who has struggles of his own to ponder upon in the dead of night, but as far as Jisung is aware, they are not great enough to keep him from a restful slumber.

To Jisung, Lee Minho is the epitome of distraction. Of thoughts turning around and running off into another direction entirely, of soft eyes with entire galaxies within that Jisung would love to explore. Smiles so rare yet so special, so unique and only for him.

Jisung has loved him for so long, not afraid to admit that he has met his soulmate, in all of the aspects of the word. If comfort can be found in one person, it is Lee Minho. And yes, Jisung knows putting so much importance into one person can be dangerous, but what is he to do with himself? Deny the effect Minho has had on him from the moment Jisung met him? Not hold him as close as humanly possible when Minho’s warmth is all that is keeping him safe and sane?

It is no wonder Minho is the one reminding him of the ground beneath his feet, when his head flies up to the clouds again, or exhaustion is pulling him further down into the earth. Jisung has known hell in his mind and fire in his veins for the better part of his life - call him a fool for dreaming of the opposite with an angel calling him to paradise, where peace and quiet are protecting him from the demons in his own head.

Nevertheless.

Falling in love with Minho has not been difficult, under these circumstances.

Confessing to him, however, has taken Jisung several months to procure enough courage, and even then, the center stage had been Minho’s, just moments before.

Jisung had felt bad for falling asleep on him, had felt bad for loading all of his worries onto an unsuspecting Minho. And yet, throughout all of Jisung’s sleeplessness, Minho has stuck with him, not for the first time, either. Watched the stars with him - or pretended to, for a whole second, before his eyes ultimately gave Jisung all of his attention. It made Jisung’s heart swell with so much affection, so much need to tease and to hold and cherish and--annoy him into telling a bedtime story with the two of them as the main characters, two childhood friends finding love in one another over half a lifetime, a warm friendship between a prince and a king, with the inevitability of love at the end of the journey.

How could Jisung not take his cue to confess that he felt the same as the prince, the king, as Minho?

The kiss, as everything else that happened that night, feels like a dream. Something Jisung is unsure has ever occurred the moment he wakes on the day after.

The sun falling into Minho’s bedroom feels like an intruder, a forceful reminder that the night has passed and time will too, and Jisung will have to leave the safe layers of Minho’s sheets around him. It must be midday by now, as Jisung’s inner clock tells him, and he must have been sleeping for longer than he is used to - which is not as odd of an occurrence to him, even as his sleep schedule is the epitome of irregularity, yet now, in his daze of wakefulness, he finds that he much regrets it.

For Minho is no longer in bed with him, and Jisung reaches out blindly across the expanse of Minho’s bed and even beyond, to see if maybe Jisung had pushed him off the bed while he was asleep. But all he finds is fur underneath his fingertips, and a cat snuggled up next to him on Minho’s side of the bed, equally as unwilling to leave as Jisung is.

Jisung reckons it can only be Dori, who has the first and only privilege out of Minho’s three cats to jump onto his bed and cuddle with him - on the record, at least, for the youngest must receive the most affection in its early years to feel welcomed in its new home. Off the record, Minho has no reservations about letting the others join in, but prefers to leave them outside in the living room to their own designated sleeping areas.

Jisung rolls onto his back, fingers still running through Dori’s fur.

To open his eyes would mean to confront reality, and reality might be awkward, or unpleasant, or proof that it had all been a dream after all, even though Jisung is pretty certain that it was not.

His mind could not conjure up the gentle kisses Minho gave, on his cheek, on his forehead, on his lips, nor the soothing words Minho used to pull him into the comfortable realms of dreamless sleep with him. With Minho, Jisung does not have to worry about the heft he is so used to carrying by now, for he will share in the task and help, unasked and unconditionally, so all Jisung is left to do is trace the goosebumps appearing on Minho’s naked skin whenever Jisung is close to him.

Jisung’s dreams are not always as blissful; as last night has so mercilessly proven to him.

He checks his phone for the time, sees that midday has long been gone, slipped from his fingers as he was not even looking, and he gets up at close to 1:30 in the afternoon, now feeling especially bad about himself. Sleep has evaded him for so long, it is strange to accept it when it comes to him, even stranger still when it leads to a sleeping schedule outside of societal norms. It is not like he had anything planned for the day, except for spending time with Minho, but he treasures it above all else, for moments with him are precious like gemstones, more valuable to him than any money’s worth.

Jisung often hides behind several walls of false bravado, of confidence that overflows, but Minho has always been able to see right through him - Minho knows the ongoings of Jisung’s mind better than anyone else, better than he himself does sometimes, and for that reason alone Jisung has proclaimed them soulmates. He is half-convinced Minho can read his mind sometimes, although perhaps if that were the case, they would have gotten together far sooner with how often Minho is the only occupant of his thoughts.

If they even are together, that is.

But they are. 

They must be.

They confessed their love to each other in the darkness, Jisung is certain that counts for something by the light of day. Minho is gracious, selfless, considerate, he would never let Jisung indulge in false hopes for some limited hours of sensuality, only to turn around in the morning and call Jisung a fool for believing this could ever mean anything beyond the realms of friendship.

Not to say that platonic love is not as meaningful as romantic love, but--Jisung is far from pretending it will be enough for him, after what he tasted last night. He is insatiable, hungry for more of Minho’s affections, eager for the commitment.

But he is also undeniably afraid of rejection, be it now or in the near future.

And yet, there is an abundance of things he is afraid of, none of which have ever held him back from pursuing what he wants in his life - Minho being at the top of that list, among the wish for success in his career and a need for satisfaction and happiness in spite of the restlessness of his racing thoughts.

So, he takes hesitant steps around Minho’s apartment, searches for him with a call of his name - a little shaky from the rapid beating of his heart - and is relieved to hear Minho respond from the kitchen, where Minho is sitting at his kitchen table, Soonie in his lap currently enjoying the luxury of head scratches.

It is a lovely image to behold.

Minho may appear cold to the outsider, to anyone who disregards the warmth hidden beneath a blank stare or a disinterested frown, and yet, it would only take one closer look at Minho like this - love pooling in his dark eyes, a gentle, small smile adorning his lips, attentive in his care for his cat - to see that he is one of the most empathetic people you could ever know.

Jisung’s lips quirk up as he watches from the doorway, at a safe distance to come up with a battle plan on how to bring up his feelings when the sun has risen.

When Minho spots him, his lips part in surprise before they form a bright grin to greet Jisung. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he says, with just an ounce of teasing. “I see sleeping beauty has finally arrived in the land of the living.”

Jisung ducks his head, though the smile does not leave his lips, as embarrassment colors his cheeks in red, and speech forsakes him entirely.

Minho places Soonie on the floor, then, ignoring the meow of protest he receives in return for abandoning his duties as cat father. His eyes are fully focused on Jisung, soft and fond, and he closes the distance between them as though it is nothing, as though it is such an easy feat. His hand reaches out to touch Jisung’s tousled hair, to bring order into chaos or at least make the useless attempt, and he asks, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says, in truth but breathless. It is Minho’s doing, for the most part, that he did, but Minho already appears to know that.

“That’s good. I was up pretty early and I didn’t want to wake you, since I know you don’t catch as much sleep as you should, so I hope it’s okay I made Dori watch over you,” Minho replies, as his hand wanders down to cup Jisung’s cheek, a little puffed still, and strokes his thumb over the expanse of Jisung’s skin, eyes sparkling as he does.

Jisung closes his eyes to let the sensation of Minho’s finger against his skin become a memory he shall recognize when touch is all he can trust. A lifeline to hold onto, even if it is but a ghost in Minho’s stead when Jisung is all by himself.

“She didn’t do much watching,” Jisung rediscovers his voice at last, raspy from disuse, “and I do have to admit I would’ve loved you to be there with me instead.”

Minho huffs a laugh, but it does not bite, “Miss me that much, huh?”

Jisung does not notice Minho’s hand on the small of his back before it already draws him to Minho’s chest, and Jisung takes the opportunity to rest his head on Minho’s shoulder. Perhaps it is the scent of him, the familiarity of it, that has Jisung’s blood cool down and the nervousness dissipate, but Jisung is suddenly open to admit that, “I always miss you when you’re not with me.”

“Clingy baby,” Minho mumbles, half in a grumble with how much it agitates him that Jisung must have made his knees weak with these words.

Jisung thinks Minho is a bit of a hypocrite; acting like Jisung is the one holding onto him all the time, when Minho is seeking him out often enough by himself.

“ _Your_ clingy baby,” Jisung says, regardless, and he is proud to catch Minho’s ears light on fire when he opens his again. Jisung is inclined to kiss it, and even though he knows the signals Minho is sending him are rather telling, he has not mustered up enough courage to just do it.

So he just nuzzles further into the crook of Minho’s neck, raises his arms to hug him around his torso and simply stays like that, without a word, just pressed up against him to unload the remains of fatigue.

He is vaguely aware of his surroundings; of the lingering smell of coffee, brewed a while ago, of the sounds in the street outside, of cars rushing by, and of cats twirling around the mess of limbs that they are, either far too interested in participating like Soonie, or just eager to get to their bowl of water in spite of the obstacle in her way like Doongie.

Jisung cannot get enough of this; cannot realize yet that moments, like the one they are sharing right now, are far more likely to happen in the future. A world of just the two of them, a separate spacetime created to their own liking, and Minho’s children at their feet, twirling in the animal equivalent of their father’s choreographies.

Jisung has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning too much, for he knows he will feel different once he steps out of the safe cocoon of their embrace, and the real world will come knocking with reminders that it is never quite so perfect as you would paint it, no matter how colorful the palette.

For now, though, he enjoys what he has as much as he can.

“Are you still sleepy?” Minho asks, quiet, almost a whisper, after he has pressed a kiss to Jisung’s forehead.

Jisung hums, “No, just comfortable.”

“That’s…” Minho’s voice cracks, and Jisung giggles. “That’s good. I’m glad you are. But uh, if you want, we can… go back to bed.”

Minho sounds nervous with his proposition, and Jisung looks up at him, wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights, and Minho must mistake his reaction as alarm at the prospect of something else, because he hastily adds, “Just to--cuddle? Watch some movies maybe? I mean we’ve got the whole day to do anything you want, but we can also just relax and stuff so--”

“Cuddling sounds great, Minho,” Jisung says, to stop the ramble before Minho gets lost in it. Minho must be equally as apprehensive about this new development in their relationship as Jisung is, and somehow, it is a calming thing to know that they are in this together.

Minho breathes out, “Okay, okay, great. But I’ve actually got something for you, before we--you know.”

To his immense displeasure, Minho makes moves to dissolve their physical bond, something that Jisung just cannot allow to ever happen. Or at least, not so soon.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Minho complains, even as Jisung pouts at him, utilizing puppy dog eyes to get exactly what he wants. He triumphs when Minho ceases his attempts and sighs, pulling Jisung along with him. “I was just going to the fridge, you weirdo,” Minho pokes him in the side, which only makes the pout on Jisung’s face grow bigger.

“What--”

Minho retrieves a plate from the fridge, a cover on top concealing what is underneath, and Jisung’s heartbeat starts to pick up its pace again in anticipation, because if it is what he assumes it to be, then he has landed himself the best, most perfect boyfriend in the entire world.

“So, I know you save it for special occasions only, but I thought--” Minho lifts the cover, revealing four slices of cheesecake, the kind Jisung recognizes as his favorite from the bakery just a few blocks away from Minho’s apartment building-- “you deserve it, after all of the hard work you did in the past few weeks.”

“You got me cheesecake?!” Jisung all but screeches, unfiltered glee chasing the poor cats away from observing the revelation of potential food.

“Ah, yes, I certainly did,” Minho smiles, a little sheepish, a little perplexed, and Jisung does not resist the urge this time, leans in to kiss him with as much fervor as he can muster. It means that Minho nearly stumbles because he loses his footing for a moment, but he is steadied by Jisung’s arms pulling him in, with as much insistence as his small body allows.

“God, I love you,” Jisung says, dreamily, like one of those characters in the romcoms he dislikes so much. The gesture has his heart jump in his chest, begging to be offered to Minho for his taking, except Minho is already the sole owner - if he wasn’t, he certainly is now, for buying Jisung’s favorite cheesecake to celebrate a big occasion. Because as much as he will claim the opposite, to Jisung, the occasion is their late night confessions, something definitely worth the celebration.

Jisung takes just a second to realize that sunlight has not made him a coward after all, and professing his love to his soulmate has been almost too easy.

Minho beams in response, so not used to hearing it in the new context of romance, but he kisses Jisung back, softly, tender fingers running along Jisung’s jaw, up and down and up again, and it makes Jisung shiver in his arms.

“I love you, too.”

Minho cannot fault him for never letting go. He makes his affections too enjoyable a thing to miss out on.

Before Jisung can demand something cheesy, like asking Minho to feed him the cheesecake (“Hah, get it, _cheesy_ , because of _cheesecake_!”), they both sit down at Minho’s kitchen table, swatting away greedy cats at their heels begging for a treat. Jisung savors the taste upon his tongue like a treasure, pretends to shed tears for dramatic effect and the bells that are Minho’s laughter, and he lets happiness fill him up to the brim.

They banter like this, a back and forth they both know so well, and the sun may have risen hours ago, but it finally dawns on Jisung that they are still them - the same Minho, the same Jisung, best friends turned boyfriends over night, though the love between them is not different - just _properly_ _defined_.

Later in bed, with Dori in his lap and back in the same warmth that lulled him to sleep the night before, he asks Minho, just to be sure.

“We’re together now, right?”

“Of course, Sungie.” 

“So… does that mean I can kiss you whenever I want, then?”

“Within reason, and not in front of the children.”

Jisung responds with a wicked grin and goes in for the kill, only to have his thigh lightly slapped - the severity dialed down exponentially, only for the sake of poor, innocent Dori.

“Hey, what was that for?” comes Jisung’s cry of indignation, even though he already knows the answer. He just wanted to see if Minho was serious.

Deadly so, it appears.

“I said not in front of the children,” Minho stresses, moving his arm from around Jisung’s shoulder to Dori’s ears, scratching behind them until the cat starts to purr in content, a means of an apology for the slight disturbance. Jisung whines at his mistreatment.

“But _Minmin~_ ,” Jisung throws his whole body against Minho’s, making him groan from what Jisung can only assume is his undying love for him.

Dori jumps up and away, fed up with Jisung’s antics.

Minho rolls his eyes, but does not swat at Jisung when he kisses him this time around.

  
  


Tomorrow, life will introduce new hardships to Han Jisung, try and break him in yet another manner, but for today - just for today - Jisung can rest easy.

… And annoy his new boyfriend with as many kisses as reason allows.

**Author's Note:**

> don’t be silent. if you enjoyed this even a little bit, i would love to know through a comment (or a cc, if you are more comfortable with that).
> 
> don’t follow my twitter expecting skz lmao. i’m mostly an atz stan acc. check out my yungi fics if you dare :D
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/sangiebyheart) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/sangiebyheart)


End file.
